Sweet Blue Flowers
by Rosage
Summary: A visit to Juniper's childhood home leads Athena to discover that more things have changed between them than she thought.


_A/N: Contains implied full game DD spoilers. Written for the "coming out" prompt from tumblr's Femslash February Trope Bingo. The title is a reference to Aoi Hana. Googling tells me that purple lilacs symbolize first love and possibly protection, whereas white lilacs symbolize young innocence. _

Athena sat on the patched loveseat with a content sigh, inhaling the fragrance of potpourri mixed with the smell of a carrot cake Juniper was pulling from the oven. Her eyes combed the living room, which seemed to have shrunk in the years since she'd last been there. The shelves in Juniper's house held as many knickknacks as books—her grandmother's fondness for elephants filled a case, while another sandwiched woodcarvings of bears in between manuals on gardening. Purple lilacs covered the wallpaper, not white as Athena remembered, but other than the addition of a few elephants and a painting Juniper had done of the forest, not much had changed. She'd felt displaced ever since Simon's trial, despite how welcoming his relatives and, later, the Wright Anything Agency had been, and her return to the space center hadn't been pleasant. This was as much like coming home as anything in the past seven years.

Knitting needles sat on the coffee table. Athena picked up the end of the scarf and whistled as Juniper entered. "It's coming along nicely," Athena said.

"Thank you." Juniper sat beside her gingerly, folding her hands in her lap. Athena stretched and leaned back, giving her a view of the back of Juniper's head. A ringlet laid across the top of the couch; on impulse, Athena reached to flick it back with the rest.

During braiding sessions as a child, Athena thought Juniper's hair felt like straw. It was softer now, and she'd have touched it more, but Juniper had stiffened in a way contact didn't used to provoke, so Athena draped her arm over the back of the couch and gestured at the scarf. "Do you think it'll be done soon, or are you dragging it out until Valentine's Day?"

Her grin wavered when Juniper didn't meet her eye. "I'm not sure."

_Drop it, Athena, _an inner voice commanded, but at the sight of the scarf something had latched onto the warmth that being in this house lent her, and it was setting Athena on edge. "He'll be happy whenever he gets it. You know, he might be a bit oblivious for someone with a lie-perceiving bracelet, but Apollo's a lucky guy. I'm sure—"

"Athena, _stop_."

The emotion in Juniper's voice jerked Athena's shoulders up. Frowning at the use of her name, she picked out the feelings: frustration, horror…was that anguish? She'd have expected embarrassment, but…

"Sorry," she said. "I wasn't trying to push it. It's okay if you take your time."

"It's not that." The shakiness in Juniper's voice would have been obvious even without Athena's ears. "Athena, I don't like Apollo."

"Huh?"

A small part of Athena wanted to laugh at Apollo the same way she did when she uncovered evidence before him. Confusion smothered that part; the scarf sat on the table, and Juniper, bless her heart, had never been subtle.

"Come on, I know you've always been shy about this stuff, but…"

"I mean it, Athena. I _can't _like him."

Discord studded Juniper's voice like static. Was this denial, or…? "Can't? Why not?"

Juniper's lapse into a coughing fit stole Athena's attention away from sorting through the noise. "There, there," Athena said, rubbing Juniper's back. "It's just me here."

"That's…" Coughs swallowed whatever Juniper meant to say. Athena continued rubbing until Juniper pulled away, dropping her face into her hands.

"Athena, he's a guy."

Athena arched an eyebrow. "Yeah…?"

The radiator hummed. Outside, a squirrel scampered up a tree, its claws making scratching sounds against the bark. The other eyebrow shot up. "Oh. _Ooh_!"

The fingers holding Juniper's forehead clenched. Athena touched her shoulder. "I'm sorry. For pushing it, I mean. It's just that I thought…"

"It's okay. That's what I wanted you to think." Juniper coughed. "I know I shouldn't have to ask, but…"

"I don't mind," Athena said quickly. "I mean, my moms were, you know, moms."

She fingered her ear. Since her earring had been taken in as evidence, it felt naked. "My ears must not be what they used to be," she mused. "I could swear I heard your feelings for him." Then again, after failing to detect her mother's killer for so long, she'd lost confidence in her ears' ability to catch everything.

"I-is that so?"

"Yeah. It was like…a warm excitement when you talked about how he was like the sun and how he'd saved you."

"W-well, I was grateful to him. It's not everyday someone shields you from rubble, you know."

"True, but I heard it before that. Especially during the Themis case. It was almost like a fixation, like you really wanted to lean on someone who was there for you, but…"

For a moment, Athena returned to the sound—both enthused and scared, with an underlying sense of safety—in such clarity she could swear it hadn't been months since then. When was the last time she'd heard it? There was the bombing trial, and then…

Slowly, Athena's eyes widened. Her heart pounded too loudly for her to sort through the sounds in the room, let alone those from the past. But then again, the last time she'd heard that feeling hadn't been in the past at all.

She turned beside her. Juniper had gone white, except for the pink on her ears and cheeks, and her jaw was clenched as if from trying not to cough. Warmth similar to what she'd been hearing spread through Athena, but it was less tense, more curious. Less like the sun, and more like a budding flower.

"Junie…?"

"I know you're smart enough to figure it out," Juniper said, her hand muffling her voice. "Just…" She stopped, the mix of feelings in her voice—worry, shame, relief—speaking for themselves.

Athena's mouth was dry, she realized when she opened it to speak. Not for the first time in her life, she was frustrated that she had to put all of her feelings into words rather than have others hear them.

"Junie—"

"Don't. You don't owe me anything, Thena." Juniper smiled weakly. "You've done more than enough for me already. I know you don't…"

The urge to prove her wrong, to wrap her up and not let go, was overwhelming—but reducing Juniper to a challenge would be horrible, and Athena controlled herself. "What makes you say that?" she asked as evenly as she could.

Juniper looked up, her eyes wide as if shaken from whatever she'd rehearsed. "Pardon?"

"I can't even sort through my own feelings," Athena said, trying to will the tightness from her voice. "How could anyone without my ability say they know how I feel?"

Juniper fiddled with the bows on her dress, a pink, frilly one Athena had been appreciating. "You said I was like a sister to you, when we first met up again, but watching you fight to save me, I…but I just couldn't tell you. That's why I directed it toward Apollo. My feelings weren't genuine, though, not toward him—I mean, I'm grateful to him, I am!—but those feelings were for you. So all I could do was try to act like the lovesick maidens I'd read about." She looked wryly at the scarf on the table. The end had fallen off and trailed on the floor, its edges already loosening. "Still, no matter how I tried not to rely on you, you were always _there_, pushing through, and I couldn't…" Her voice choked up. She grabbed a flower from her breast pocket and inhaled.

Athena stroked her sensitive earlobes, struggling to tell which emotions she was hearing and which were hers. The happiness blooming in her chest had to belong to her, but the pain and release...she ached from the strain and searched for words that could match it, if not ease it.

"I thought a robot was my sister, Junie. I've done a lot of growing since then."

"I know. We both have. But it's hard to admit."

Athena studied Juniper. Red and hunched, she didn't look like the student council president who had startled Athena with her strength, but her voice had deepened since years past, and her body had developed. Athena looked at the elephants in their case, at the wallpaper that had deepened in color. Her toe prodded the scarf.

"Things change so fast. It's tempting to cling to what you can."

"And what you can't," Juniper whispered.

Athena glanced beside her, not quite turning. "Are there any rules saying what you can't?"

"Th—Athena, please don't tease me. If you…just tell me."

Athena bit her lip, bouncing her heels and rocking in her seat. More than anything, she wanted to give Juniper something solid to hold onto, but leading her best friend on sounded too horrible for words.

"I don't know," she admitted. "I spend so much time organizing other people's feelings that I don't always think about my own."

"That's just like you." Juniper sniffed, but her lips curved up. Taking that as encouragement, Athena smiled.

"Yeah, you know me. Act first, ask thorough questions later."

"Except right now I think you're just fretting. Leave that part to me, all right?"

"I'd rather neither of us fretted," Athena said, reaching for Juniper's hand. Realizing the implication, she jerked back, then huffed with frustration; she was all for interpreting meanings in things, but not when it made following instincts with Juniper _complicated_.

"Sorry. I should have asked," Athena mumbled.

"I…I don't mind, as long as you're not forcing yourself."

"Never," Athena said, quickly retaking Juniper's hand. It felt clammy, not as warm as she'd expected, but then, it'd been clammy when they were kids, too. Still, the tingling in her wrist was different—not bad, just different—in a way she thought she could get used to.

Athena considered the wallpaper. She did like purple, she thought, at least as much as white. Fabric shifted against the cushion as Juniper scooted toward her in an invitation Athena decided took no thought to accept.

"We'll figure it out," she murmured against Juniper's ear before losing herself in rose-scented perfume.


End file.
